


The Foundling

by atiredbean



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atiredbean/pseuds/atiredbean
Summary: The first time her nose catches a hold of the scent, she doesn't know what exactly it is that she's smelling.Then her curiosity gets the better of her and she follows it, despite her mother's voice echoing through her head, telling her to turn the other way.- - - - -The Valar are bored.And a little annoyed with how certain things went.So someone suggests that they do something about it.They do.Curse the Valar and their boredom.- - - - -Part one of five.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Foundling

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello and welcome to the first of five parts of a weird thing I've had running around in my head for a few weeks/ months now, and which is finally ready to be uploaded!
> 
> During all five parts I'll be following the events of The Hobbit as well as The Lord Of The Rings, but you'll have to forgive me for anything that might seem OOC etc, since I've never written for either one of these fandoms before (let's ignore that weird crack fic from the start of the year, shall we..). 
> 
> It's also been.. Uh.. Pretty much a decade since I've written anything this long and if some parts read as if I'd had to literally force myself to write them, then that's probably what happened. 
> 
> Anyway..
> 
> Two things before we start: 
> 
> Thing One:  
> For size reference; Frŷn is 3ft at the beginning of the story, but grows up to be a little over 6ft. He'll still be teeny tiny compared to what the internet tells me about Tolkien Elves and their heights, but around 6ft is pretty damn huge for an average person, and not just in Middle Earth. :p 
> 
> Thing Two:  
> Most of these chapters have been written in advance, because I didn't have jack shit to do during lockdown. I also beta'd the majority of these by myself, because again: Lockdown and not having shit to do mix kinda well. I still might've missed some typos though, so please let me know if you find any! 
> 
> Now, let's get this show on the road, shall we?
> 
> P.s. Comments? Kudos? Etc?

* * *

The first time her nose catches a hold of the scent, she doesn't know what exactly it is that she's smelling.

Then her curiosity gets the better of her and she follows it, despite her mother's voice echoing through her head, telling her to turn the other way.

She follows it for days, barely sleeping and only eats whatever isn't fast enough. Hunting takes time and even though she's far away from any of her kin, the voice that sounds exactly like her mother and that had told her to leave before now tells her to hurry up. That the scent will be gone soon, if she doesn't pick up her paws and _move it!_

And so Ràla moves. 

Once, on the third of however many days it takes her to find the source, she comes across a group of Men, camped out near the river they call the Anduin and shouting in alarm as soon as they spot her moving towards them. On any other day, she would've charged at them in an instant, just to see what they'd do. 

Today, she leaves them behind almost as soon as they've jumped to their feet and readied their weapons.

Three days turn into four, then five and six. By the time she's been following the scent for a full week, her stomach is dangerously empty and the first signs of real hunger are reminding her to stop being so stupid. 

And then the scent grows stronger than ever before in the last seven days. 

All thoughts of hunger and how nice it would be to find a big, fat Stag right now, disappear immediately and so she continues to follow it, raising her nose high into the air above her head, where the scent is the strongest. 

Then there are trees in front of her and she pushes through them, entirely focused on finding the source. 

What she finds, once she has moved past the trees, is not what she expected. Not that having expectations has helped her before. 

But this is just..

Strange.

And weird.

And very, very interesting.

Because what she finds is a cub.

A _Man_ cub.

A cursory sniff of the air around her confirms that the cub is the sole source of the scent. 

Which doesn't make any sense whatsoever, because the scent is _magic_ , in its purest and most unfiltered form. It smells of power, ancient and a little bit dusty, and far stronger than anything she's ever come across in all her life. 

It smells of the first thaw of the year, too, and of fresh buds on the trees in the forest and the flowers in the fields.

It smells of the first rain of the season, that warm drizzle she used to love as a cub of nights that are just as warm as the days have been.

It smells of falling leaves and of acorns and the yellow grass the Men hack and collect once a year. 

It smells of the first frost of the year, and of snow and the end of old life and preparing for the new again. 

It smells like everything she's ever known, but so intense and powerful and raw that it almost overwhelms her completely. The only thing that stops her from fainting is the thought that _this can't be!_ A cub, least of all one of the _Men's_ cannot possibly be the source of such a powerful scent!

And yet it seems to be just that.

And then something in the back of her mind screams _It's a trap!!_ at her and she's on her feet in an instant, ready to attack any who dares to trick her. 

But the only thing that's here, other than herself, is the cub. 

Which has looked up when she'd jumped to her feet and snarled loudly at nonexistent enemies. 

And which is now staring at her with wide, brown eyes. There's no fear in them, she notes when her own golden ones meet them. Only childish curiousity, and a hint of confusion maybe. 

And then it coos, rises to its legs and takes a few cursory steps towards her. 

Ràla Stormpaw has never liked cubs.

They're clumsy and stupid and all they do is eat and sleep and fart and bite her legs with their tiny little excuses for teeth. They don't help during the hunt, or keep watch, or do _anything_ useful at all. Whenever someone tells her that she used to be a cub, too, she usually ignores them, or snaps at their ears to get them to back off. 

But this cub is different. 

Not entirely because it only walks on two legs, or because the noises it makes stir something in her chest, or because it's a _cub_ , all alone and without any pack near to care for it.

This cub is different because it is a Man cub, and because it looks at her and makes that noise that she knows is what Men call laughter, and because there is no fear in its eyes when it looks at her. 

And then the cub is right in front if her, and coos again and when she looks down at it, it stretches its arms out to her and its hands make little grabby motions at her face. 

So she lowers her head, sniffs the little one's hair and face and chest and inhales its scent as much as possible. The cub giggles and wraps its little arms around her snout, hugging it tightly.

Then it lets go again, bears its little teeth up at her in what she knows is a smile and right there and then, Ràla vows to whoever made her find this cub, that she will protect it with her life for as long as she can. 

She never regrets that decision for as long as she lives. 

& & & &

_Nine months later_

Ràla huffs in mild annoyance, while the little Man cub climbs all over her hind legs, steps on her tail at least three times and pulls on her fur while trying not to fall on its behind. 

'Sowwy!' the little man exclaims everytime, sounding as if he's not sorry in the least. He's gotten steadily better at speaking over the last few months since she's found him and has taken to telling her all about what he does all day long, to her neverending amusement. 

'Wawa!' he now calls out to her, his version if her name. She turns her head to look at what he's doing and sees him stand near the entrance of the cave they've been staying in for a few weeks now. When he sees her looking at him, he points into the forest outside of the cave. 'A friend!' he exclaims, although his face doesn't look happy at the sight. 

And he's right to not be happy, because the "friend" he's seen is another Warg and a male as well. She's on her feet in an instant, moves towards the entrance of the cave and pulls him into the depth of it. He protests a little, but quiets down when he sees the look in her face. 

'Stay.' she tells him, using one of the few Westron words she knows and one that she's found to be very useful in the last nine months. He nods seriously, then turns around, scuttles into the farthest corner of the little cave, curls into a tight ball and hides himself as well as he can. 

Satisfied at the sight, she turns her attention back to the outside of the cave and the Warg who seems to be more or less patiently waiting for her. 

She knows exactly what he's here for, so she takes a deep breath, raises her head and steps out into the small clearing.

& & & &

Afterwards, she rises to her feet with a small grunt, shakes herself thoroughly and then begins to step away, turning in the direction of a small stream the cub and her had discovered not too long after finding the cave. 

_Where do you think you're going?_ the male growls behind her. 

_Why do you care?_ she growls in return, but doesn't stop moving. _We're not pack. I recommend that you get out of my way, and soon._ she adds, not bothering to hide the thread in her voice. 

The male behind her laughs roughly and she hears him rise to his feet as well. _You're a feisty one. I like that._ he tells her and yawns. _We'll be pack soon enough._ he adds, as if pointing out the obvious. Then he begins to move towards the cave. 

And suddenly finds himself on his side, pinned to the ground by Ràla and with her theeth a little too close to his neck. 

' _Leave._ ' she tells him, out loud and in Westron this time. And then adds, _I will not repeat myself a third time._

She takes a step back, watches him get back to his feet and shake the dirt out of his fur. She notes the timid look he throws her with no small amount of satisfaction, but growls warningly at him when he doesn't immediately move again. 

Finally the male moves, throwing one last unreadable look at her and the cave before picking up speed. 

Ràla sighs. This was a bad idea. 

& & & &

After taking a quick swim in the stream near the cave, she returns to it just as the sun starts to set on the horizon. 

When she gets back to their cave, the cub is standing in the entrance again, anxiously looking for her in the distance and breaks out into a beaming smile as soon as he sees her. Almost as soon as she's close enough to nudge him with her nose, his small arms are closing around her snout and he squeezes her tightly. 'Missed you, Wawa.' the little Man mumbles into the fur in her face, before letting go. 'Where's the friend?' he asks curiously, wide brown eyes searching for the other Warg. She sighs invardly, moves around him to settle herself into a corner of the entrance and gently pulls at the back of his shirt to make him sit down next to her. 

'Gone.' she explains in Westron. 'Not friend.' Not for the first time does the Warg wish that her Westron wasn't as rudimentary as this and that the boy could simply understand her in the same way her kin does. 

'Oh.' the little boy says at that. 'Bad dog?' he asks and Ràla laughs. 'Yes.' she tells him. 'Very bad dog.' The boy blinks once, then nods and snuggles himself into her side. 'Don't like bad dogs.' he tells her, yawning widely. 'Only like Wawa.' 

She humms at that, softly touches his forehead with her nose and drags her tongue across it once. The boy sighs in content, and soon enough she hears his breath even out. 

He needs as much sleep as possible.

They have a long trek ahead of them tomorrow. 

& & & &

_Three months later_

The face her little boy pulls when the first snow falls is one of such pure delight and joy that she has to almost force herself to not grab the back of his shirt to pull him back into the den. 

Instead she lies down in the opening of the small hole she'd dug into the side of a small hill at the beginning of the fall season, folds her front paws underneath her chest and resigns herself to simply watching the cub enjoy himself for a moment.

He's grown, in the weeks and months since they've left the cave and the stream, and where he barely reached the botton of her chest cavity before when standing next to her, the boy is now looking almost directly into her eyes when he stands in front of her. 

She'll have to find new clothes for him soon, she thinks idly, while continuing to watch the small Man play in the snow. The falling snowflakes are large and he's standing still, his head tilted back and his tongue sticking out while trying to catch them as they slowly drift towards the ground. 

His speech has cleared up too and he talks even more than he did a few months ago, explaining every little thing to her as soon as he sets his eyes on it. As she watches him, a particularly large snowflake lands on the tip of his nose and makes him giggle almost hysterically. 

He tilts his head forwards again, shakes it to get rid of the small tickling sensation and spots her watching him. 'Ràla!' he calls to her. 'Come and play!' When she stays in her spot instead of joining him, he squints his eyes at her and a mischievous grin appears on his little face. 

Then he bends down, collects some of the snow that has settled on the ground into a small ball, pulls his arm back, aims and lets it fly. 

It hits her square in the chest. 

They both pause for a second. 

_Start running, runt._ she gowls and rises to her feet.

The boy shrieks in delight, turns on his heel and speeds off into the trees.

While they run around the forest, playing and chasing each other, Ràla thinks that he will love the cubs and that they will love him just as much.

Then another snowball hits her in the side and interrupts her thoughts, and when she looks into the direction it came from, all she hears is the boy's bell like laughter bouncing off the trees around her, impatiently inviting her to follow him again.

And so Ràla does. 

She always follows him, wherever they go. 

& & & &

_Six months later_

When they come, her boy adores the cubs more than she thought he would. 

On the night of their birth, the Warg and the boy have been stuck in their den due to a snow storm, when she suddenly feels a sharp sting in her side. The boy is asleep on the other side of the small burrow, curled into a tight ball and sleeping soundly. 

If the weather allowed it, she would leave the den, give birth and then bring the cubs back to him in the morning. 

The weather does not allow it, and so she has no other choice but to stay and bear the cubs right here.

As if sensing her discomfort, the boy's eyes snap open and immediately search his surroundings for her form in the dark. 

When he finds her in the blackness of the den, he quietly rises, crosses the distance between their sleeping spots and moves as if to curl into her side, but she stops him with a gentle shove of her nose. 

'The pups want to come.' she tells him, unable to hide the pain in her voice. The small face stares up at her in surprise amd shock. 'What do I do?' he whispers immediately and Ràla's heart swells at the question. 'Nothing.' she replies, and then huffs in annoyance, because she doesn't know the Westron words for what is about to happen. 

_It is in my blood, little one._ she tells him gently. _There is nothing you can do but go back to sleep. They will be here when you wake again._ she promises at the sight of his unsure frown. 

He makes a small whining noise in the back of his throat, but eventually relents and moves back to his small nest on the other side of the den. 

He pretends to be asleep for the rest of the night and she pretends not to know. 

An hour later, four small Warg cubs lie next to her, whining quietly and squirming while she cleans them patiently. Eventually they make their way towards her teets and begin to suck on them noisily. 

And while Ràla lies on her side and watches the pups drink their first milk, the boy slowly moves towards where her head lies, sits down next to it and gently strokes her forehead, until she finally falls asleep. 

Ràla is happy. 

& & & &

The next year goes by faster than Ràla can blink. 

The cubs love the boy and he loves them in turn. 

None of them question why one of their siblings can walk on two feet, or climb trees, or why he can't smell certain things. They don't question why he can throw snowballs at them during their first winter, or how he manages to catch a huge salmon a few weeks before the first frost settles in, or why he's always curled into their mother's side during the coldest winter nights, when the frost sinks into the ground and makes their breath visible even in their den. 

They never ask why he doesn't have fur anywhere except on the top of his head, or where his claws are, or why his teeth are so much shorter than theirs. 

They don't even ask why he wears the clothing of Men or why they never go near other Wargs if it can be avoided. 

They simply love their brother with all their might. 

And he loves them back. 

**

_Before the cubs came, there had been one evening a few weeks after they'd found the small hill, where they'd been sitting in the entry_ _way and watched the sun set on the horizon._

_They'd been sitting next to each other in a very comfortable silence, happy to just simply sit there and do nothing else, and Ràla had been wondering when she'd last been as happy as she was in this moment, when the boy interrupted her thoughts._

_'I don't have a name.' he'd stated, still staring at the horizon._

_When Ràla didn't immediately respond, he said it again, but while the Warg thought that maybe he'd be upset at the thought, the boy next to her just sounded mildly irritated at the idea._

Are you sure? _she found herself asking eventually. She'd never told him just how she'd come to find him and had hoped that it would still be a long time until that day fiinally came._

_The small boy nodded seriously, never turning his head to look at her, but she still detected a sliver of doubt in his face at her words._

_'I don't know.' he said after a moment._

_Rala hummed at that._

I could give you one. _she offered, carefully watching the boy's body language for any signs of distress, but couldn't find any._

_'I would like that.' he replied, turning his head to look at her for the first time and smiling in that soft, happy way she'd gotten so used to over a last year._

_So she'd given him a name, one that she'd only ever heard in stories but had always liked a lot. It had belonged to a great Warg who had lived long before even her grandsire had been born, and the stories his sire had told him had been in turn told to Ràla and her siblings on rainy nights when they couldn't sleep._

Frŷn _._ _she told the boy after a long, silent moment._ He was a great warrior to my kin once.

_The boy blinked once, wrinkling his small forehead in a thoughtful frown._

_'Frŷn.' he said out loud after a short pause, testing the name out as if it was something new he'd never eaten before._

_Then he nodded, happy with her choice, turned his head to face her again and grinned._

_'Hello, Ràla.' he said to her. 'My name is Frŷn.' And then he had laughed, slung his arms around her neck and they'd gone back to watching the sun set on the horizon._

_**_

The cubs are a month old when the subject of names comes up again. 

'They should have names.' Frŷn tells her while they sit next to each orher in the entrance to their den. He rolls his eyes when he sees her confused look, points at the cubs and explains, 'The cubs don't have names. I do. They don't have any.' He pauses for a moment. 'It's not right.' he finally says, face twisted in a thoughtful frown. 

_It isn't?_ she asks in barely concealed amusement. 

The boy's frown deepens and he shakes his head. 'No!' he replies, surprising her with the amount of heat behind that small word. 'They need names!' he explains. 'You have a name. I have a name. That has a name.' he explains and points at a tree a small distance away. 'Everything has a name! The cubs need one too!' 

_Alright._ she agrees. _What should we name them then?_

The small boy hums for a moment, sounding exactly like her for a moment, and wrinkles his nose in thought. 

Then he gets up, walks over where the little ones are fast asleep and stares down at them. 

'Kít.' he eventually says, and points at the smallest of the four small Warg cubs. 

Then he looks at the three remaining cubs and thinks again. 

'Sànna.' he declares, pointing his little finger at the second cub. 

The third name doesn't take long. 'Motí!' he exclaims, nodding decisively. 

Then he stares at the last cub, who is also the largest of the four.

His small face is scrunched up in a mixture of frustration and confusion for a long time, before he suddenly blinks and a beaming smile appears on his face.

And then he speaks Khuzdûl.

For a moment, the Warg stares at the boy in astonishment. 

_What did you just say?_ she manages to ask, after the first shock has worn off.

Frŷn repeats the word slowly. 

'A-m-r-â.' he tells her, pronouncing the word for her slowly. 

'It means love!' he then adds, still grinning in delight. And I love her a lot! So it's perfect!' 

Ràla stares at the little boy, completely thrown. 

_You speak Khuzdûl._ she states, still staring at the boy in front of her.

'What's that?' he asks, while walking back to the den's entrance and plopping back down into the space he'd occupied before. 

_It is a language I thought only Dwarves spoke._ she replies. _I have never heard one of the Men speak it before._

Frŷn shrugs and picks at a small scab on his knee. 'I don't speak any other languages.' he replies simply. 'That word was in my head and so I said it. I thought that's how it works.' he adds. 'What's a dwarf?' he then asks, and Ràla can't do anything but sit down and stare at the boy in front of her. 

Then she remembers the smell of magic coming off of him and how he wasn't afraid of her and how happy she has been since she found him, and Ràla sighs deeply. 

And then she tells him about Dwarves. 

Frŷn is fascinated.

& & & &

They never talk about it, but Ràla knows that the boy wonders where he comes from. 

She knows that he sometimes stays out in the woods far longer than she likes, and that he is incredibly curious about anyone else like him. She also knows that he knows in just how much danger they would all be, if any of the Men discover him anywhere near the. But he either doesn't care about it enough, or the mere idea of danger isn't enough to curb his enthusiasm. 

For a very long time, the six of them live without fear though. The location of the den is far away enough from any major roads and the psrt of the woods it lies near is too dense and overgrown for the Men's horses and carts to get through. On top of that, Ràla has been here long enough for the surrounding settlements to have a vague idea of Wargs in their area, and since there seem to be no other dangers near her or them, and she also never goes anywhere near their settlements, they leave her be. 

The peaceful days go by one after another.

Frŷn finds enough distraction in showing the cubs every inch of the woods they live in, spends less time wondering about his origins and more with his siblings and so they live in relative peace and happiness for a long while. 

They have food, shelter and the cubs have space to run around and play. 

Things are well. 

Until they're not anymore, of course.

* * *

& & & &

_~_

_And the Wind will whisper your name to me_

_Little birds will sing along in time_

_The leaves will bow down, when you walk by_

_And morning bells will chime_

_~_

& & & &

* * *

'We'll be back before sundown!' Frŷn tells her, half a step away from begging.

_No, you won't. They're not fast enough yet._ she replies sternly, but not bothering to hide her slowly growing anger at the boy. They've been arguing for the better part of the morning and her patience has just about run out. 

When he opens his mouth again to try and convince her to let them go to the other end of the forest where he discovered a gigantic waterfall a few days ago, she has enough. 

_I hereby forbid you from leaving this clearing!_ she snaps sharply, glaring at the boy standing opposite her. He's grown again, she notices in the back of her head. Their eyes are now at the same height and soon enough, he will tower over her.

He glares back at her, but doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead he lets out an angry huff, turns around and disappears from her view. 

She hopes he won't be angry for long. 

Outside of the den, she can hear the five siblings run around after each other, with Frŷn's high pitched laughter mixed in between the sounds of four sets of paws and two sets of feet scratching across the ground. 

Satisfied that they will obey her and stay near the den, the Warg busies herself with digging at the walls in their sleeping hole, making it big enough to house four growing cubs as well as a growing Man cub and herself. 

By the time she realises that the noise outside is completely gone, the cubs are already making their way through the woods. 

Ràla panics. 

& & & &

'I told you it was worth it!' Frŷn tells his siblings, grinning widely and hopping from one large boulder to another. 

_We should go home._ Sànna chirps, turning her head back and forth and nervously surveying their surroundings. Her and Kít are sitting closely together, with the youngest of the four cubs peering at the large boulders in front of them curiously.

Amrâ, oldest and therefore bravest of the four siblings, laughs at something Frŷn does on top of the boulders and jumps up to join him. _Not yet, little sister._ she says. _Let's stay here a bit longer!_

Sànna whines quietly in reply. _But it'll be dark soon!_ she tells them worriedly. _What if we don't get gome before sundown?_

Kít whines too, and even Motí notes that it's getting dark faster than they thought.

So Frŷn relents, him and Amrâ hop down from the boulders and the five siblings make their way back towards the den. 

By the time they've crossed about two thirds of the woods, darkness has descended onto them. 

The siblings move through the woods as quietly as possible, walking in a row behind each other in the way their mother has taught them.

When they finally reach the den, Ràla isn't outside. 'She's probably inside.' Frŷn says, trying not to sound nervous. The four Warg cubs nod at that and then move across the clearing. 

The cave is empty. 

The siblings share a wide eyed look with each other. 

_I bet she went out to look for us!_ Kit pipes up from where he's still standing near the den's entrance, but before he can say anything else, Motí interrupts him. _We should stay here. If she comes back and finds us gone again, we'll be be in even more trouble._

Frŷn nods at that and the five siblings settle into their usual sleeping arrangements, which don't involve anything other than the four Wargs draping themselves across Frŷn in a lose pile of limbs, heads and tails. 

Eventually they all fall asleep.

& & & &

Ràla doesn't come home during the night. 

Or at any point during the next three days. 

By the evening of the second day, they all know that something terrible has happened. 

'We need to find her.' Frŷn says, stating the obvious. 'What if she's hurt?' The four Wargs agree, and the five of them decide to search for her the following day. 

After they've dropped into their usual pile ontop of Frŷn, the five siblings lie awake for a while longer. 'What if we don't find her?' the boy asks after they've all realised that none of them are sleeping yet. 

_We will._ Motí tells him. 

_I hope she's not too angry at us._ Kít's voice whispers from below Amrâ's tail. _I don't like it when she's angry._

Frŷn reaches for his brother's shoulder and strokes it soothingly. 'She'll be angry, but also happy to have us back in one piece.' he tells his youngest brother. 'You'll see.' 

_We should sleep._ his oldest sister eventually says, reminding them of the following day's task. 

So they sleep. 

& & & &

They don't find her on the first day. 

Or on the second.

On the third day, Kít picks up the scent of a horse not too far from them and Frŷn tenses. Horses don't come back here, Ràla always tells them that whenever they ask. 

But Amrâ, Sànna and Motí confirm it, and when they decide to follow the animal's scent, they find a camp of Men. 

And then Sànna makes a horrified noise in the back of her throat. 

She smells their mother on those Men. 

The three other Wargs can smell her too, and Frŷn is smart enough to add two and two together. All colour drains frim the boy's face at the realization and he goes deathly still. 

They retreat back into the darkness of the forest without a sound. 

They've seen enough.

& & & &

Two days later, they find their mothers corpse, surrounded by the bodies of three Men and a dead horse. 

Frŷn sees her first.

He stares for a moment, then starts forwards and drops to his knees next to her head. She's ice cold. 

He doesn't speak, simply cradles her head in bis lap and strokes her forehead with shaking fingers. 

Then there is a cough from somewhere and the boy's head whips up so fast, someone else might've gotten whiplash from the sheer speed of it. 

One of the men is still alive. 

Carefully, Frŷn lifts his mother's head from his lap, rises to his feet and sets it back down to the ground. 

Then he walks to where the dying Man lies, surrounded by his siblings. 

The Man is older than any the boy has seen before, and his eyes widen when he spots Frŷn walk towards him. 

'You killed my mother.' the boy says, his voice cold and void of any emotion. 

The Man coughs and splutters, but can't get a word out. It doesn't matter to either one of the five siblings anyway. 

Looking around, Frŷn spots a sword one if the Man's friends has either dropped or discarded during the fight. He looks at it for a long, silent moment, then bends down and picks it up. 

It's heavy and too long for him to actually wield it, but eventually he manages to hold it more or less properly.

Then he lets it fall forwards, the pointy bit lands in the Man's neck and he stops making any kind of noise all together. 

& & & &

Ràla gets buried near the den six days after her death at the hands of Men.

Frŷn doesn't say anything while they drag her through the woods, or while Motí and Sànna dig the hole. 

He doesn't say anything while Amrâ and Kít close it again, either. 

Only when the four Wargs begin to howl at the sky does the boy make any noise at all, and while they howl their sorrows into the sky, Frŷn drops to his knees for the second time within two days, takes a deep breath and lets out one long, high pitched wail.

It lasts for several seconds, before be breaks off, curls into a ball and begins sobbing. 

His brothers and sisters curl up next to him and wait until he falls asleep.

Amrâ carries him back into the den, where they all join him for one last night. 

They never come back there for as long as any of them live.

_~_

_I'll be there when you're feeling down_

_To kiss away the tears if you cry_

_I'll share with you all the happiness I've found_

_A reflection of the love in your eyes_

_And I'll sing you the songs of the rainbow_

_Whisper all the joy that is mine_

_The leaves will bow down, when you walk by_

_And morning bells will chime_

_-_

_Mary Travers (from Peter, Paul & Mary) - For Baby (For Bobbie) _

_~_

* * *

_~ To Be Continued ~_


End file.
